


Punch me, I Dare you

by usherrthaaa



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Banter, Drabbles, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Harry Potter References, Height Differences, Mostly funny, Smidge of angst maybe, Tropes, Tumblr Prompt, Wit, assorted ficlets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-07 05:35:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11616978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usherrthaaa/pseuds/usherrthaaa
Summary: The purest fluff and perfection for you dramione starved soul.A collection of ficlets for tumblr prompts that i found extremely irresistible. Different AUs and varying timelines for each prompt and i might even take suggestions we'll see how it goes.





	1. Say You Do

**Prompt: Fake Date**

* * *

 

“You absolute pervert!”

“Watch how loud you screech, Granger. This is a wedding not a zoo.”

“Move your hand this instant before I _Avada_ you.”

“It’s on your _waist_ not your _ass,_ you dumb bint.”

“Must you be this crude? And I don’t want you on any part of my body waist or otherwise.”

“That’s not what you’ll say when-,”

“Don’t finish that goddamn sentence.”

“I was just trying for a laugh, Granger.”

“Well. Don’t.”

“Urgh. Why did I even agree to this?”

“Why indeed."

"It was your idea, you brilliant witch.”

“Dial back the attitude or my heel will find your family jewels, Malfoy!”

“Aren't you a lady.”

“I have no reason to be a lady when I’m in the company of a ferret- OW. Did you just pinch me?”

“You have fat rolls, Granger.”

“Don’t ever pinch my love handles.”

“Is that what you’re calling them now?”

“Get off my case.”

“Then lay off the pudding.”

“I’ll eat what I damn please.”

“How much longer to this boring sham they call a wizarding wedding?”

“It’s traditional, you dolt- none of its a sham. And you call yourself a Pureblood.”

“You’re such a nag.”

“And you’re a son of a b-,”

“Hermione, _there_ you are!”

They jump apart when Ginny marches over, hips swaying dangerously as she stalks up to them, hands resting on her waist. She has shiny decor in her hair, and her bridesmaid's dress is a startling pink that sharply ruins the stunning quality of her naturally red tresses. Hermione has a feeling her friend knows how terrible she looks so she refrains from bringing it up.

“And you found Malfoy,” Gin mutters, brows creasing and eyes narrowing in something that looks like suspicion.

The insufferable git at her side twines his arm back around her waist and tugs her into his side. Her shoulder pokes his rib cage and she stumbles in her stupid heels but somehow Ginny doesn’t notice their clumsiness and obvious lack of synchronisation. She presses her nails into her palms and prepares for the Inevitable Tragedy.

“We came together, actually,” Malfoy says, winning smirk plastered across his face.

Hermione cringes at his choice of wording and pulls away from his side warily.

“He’s your date?” Ginny gasps. “ _He’s_ the man you’ve been telling us about? Draco Malfoy?”

Yeah, her date from one day ago. Great. 

“You speak to your friends about me, Gra- er... Hermione?” Malfoy adds, unhelpfully, smirking to himself despite the situation.

“Y- yes, Gin,” Hermione sighs, fiddling with her small clutch and bracing for a Very Bad Explosion. “He’s the guy.”

“I cant believe you!” Ginny squeals, eyes blazing. “You naughty witch!”

“What?” Hermione stutters and Malfoy laughs loudly at her side.

“ _Finally_ ,” Ginny drawls, raising her palm for a high five which Malfoy enthusiastically reciprocates on Hermione’s behalf. “I knew you wouldn't end up alone with your sad cat and never move on from Ron- but this... this is above and beyond!”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Gin,” Hermione mutters, flustered.

This wasn’t going to plan. They were supposed to see Malfoy and give up on pushing her to find a love life- not encourage it. And especially not _with_ him. She'd never had a plan backfire on her so. She was Hermione Granger for Merlin’s sake. She'd run through all the variables and counted on their mutual hatred for Malfoy.

Ginny smirks up at the ferret in question and nods approvingly.

“How did you even get her to come to this? And dressed up so well? I can barely get her into a dress let alone heels!”

Malfoy chortles and the look on his face spells Oncoming Disaster. At her expense.

“I just told her there would be cake,” he replies with a quick wink, and Hermione elbows him sharply in the side.

“That’s quite enough,” she reproves with an embarrassed flush.

The Titanic hadn’t sunk as fast as this plan.

Ginny laughs at Malfoy’s quip and rolls her eyes. “Of course that would work. You eat way too much, Mione.”

The witch glowers at her friend and self consciously runs a hand past the waist of her tight sundress. Of course she did. Why wouldn’t you eat things that tasted so damn good?

“I think she looks great though. A witch with curves is a sight to behold,” Malfoy interjects suddenly, with a small smile, and Hermione fights the urge to slap him.

The insensitive git.

Beside them, Ginny colours deeply and mutters something unintelligibly. “Yes... curves- sorry 'Mione.”

Malfoy grins again, except this time its dangerous; like a shark displaying its rows and rows of sharp, deadly teeth. Even though technically it would have one ‘working’ row and the others would be hidden as back ups-

“Coming Granger?” Malfoy says suddenly, interrupting her inner monologue, and she realises she’s missed all of the conversation leading up to this moment. She doesn’t know where they’re going but she nods anyway.  
Ginny seems to have gone ahead, and Hermione shoots daggers at the back of her friend’s head as they trudge towards a large white tent.

“You don’t have to act this much,” she grouses to Malfoy, and the git snorts in response.

“If I didn't take this opportunity to enjoy myself at the expense of your backfired plan,” he replies with a laugh. “Salazar Slytherin would turn in his grave.”

“You’re such a _git_ ,” she seethes, twitching when he brings his arm up to wrap around hers. “You’re supposed to annoy them and be foul. Not.. not... whatever _this_ is.”

“You just told me I was being an arse, which means I’m clearly doing something right,” he smirks, looking down at her and winking.

She’s never seen him this jovial ever before and it annoys her to no end. Of course he’d derive this much pleasure from her Intense Embarrassment. She growls to herself and glances away from his cheerful slate grey eyes.

The afternoon sun shines warmly around them and the yellow flowers decorating the tents and the tables are welcoming and pleasing to look at compared to Malfoy’s stupid face. She stares at a table setting with vehemence as they move into the tent.

“There she is, doesn’t she look lovely?” she hears Ginny tell someone, and by the choking that follows she knows its Harry.

“Is that- is that Malfoy?”

“Why, Potter, I’m flattered,” the ferret smirks, dragging Hermione by the elbow until they reach the couple. “You do remember me.”

“He's your date?” Harry asks Hermione, eyes wide and spectacles askew.

“ _Yes_ ,” she bites out, glowering at him as if trying to convey her mistake.

“I know right?” Ginny says as her boyfriend stands in silence, glancing at the two of them. “He didn’t tell me either.”

“He?” Hermione asks. “Why would he be telling you anything?”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “You’d know if you ever cared to make it to our weekly Quidditch matches. Harry invited some Slytherins a few weeks ago.”

“I didn't- what I mean is,” Harry says, flustered. “Katie's got too many actual Quidditch players and Malfoy works with Ron and I in the Ministry, and we run into each other lot... so I thought it was fair enough. Anyway- back to the more important topic. I was so sure the mystery date you were telling us about _since the invitations were written_ was fake. I honestly thought you freaked when you saw the plus one on the invite and bullshitted about having a date just to get us to lay off.”

"Harry!" Ginny admonishes.

Hermione stiffens at his freakishly accurate accusation and frantically struggles for something to say. Trust Harry Potter to know her so well.

“No wait. Lets go back to the Quidditch thing. You invited Mal- um Draco to your matches?”

Ginny shrugs and looks at Malfoy in confusion.

“You didn’t tell her?”

He looks as uncomfortable as she feels for some reason.

“We have better things to talk about, little Red,” he manages to say, and Hermione doesn't miss the strange nickname. “Plus what’s there to talk about. It’s a Quidditch game on outdated brooms with no referee and a bad snitch.”

“You only think the snitch is bad cause you never caught it,” Harry laughs, suddenly seeming at ease with the conversation back on Quidditch.

"I would if you'd just-,"

"No complaining Malfoy," Ginny laughs. "It's your fault you chose to be on his team. I would've let you play Seeker and you knew it!"

"Lay off Gin," Harry laughs. "You make me sound like a tyrant captain."

"Well isn't that how you're always captain?" Draco says in a voice that borders on genial and dare she think it- _friendly?_

"You should come with ‘Mione for the next one," Harry says suddenly, with a nod in Hermione's direction, and she wilts behind Malfoy.

Malfoy, the git, nods with a lopsided smile and Hermione seethes inwardly. Here she was, getting invited to something she’d refused to attend to for so long, as _Malfoy’s_ date. _Malfoy_ was being invited by her friends to bring _her_ along for _her_ friends’ weekly match which _he_ seemed to be a regular to. What was the world coming to? This idea wasn’t the Titanic- it was the entirety of Emma’s terrible matchmaking plan burning down to the ground like in that Jane Austen book.

“Wait till Ron hears this,” Ginny chortles, and Hermione snaps into the present to feel her stomach curdle up at her friends words.

She stiffens and searches for a place to hide, finally interrupted by Malfoy when he leans over to talk to Harry.

“Don’t bother the groom,” he says quickly, and his eyes find hers as if noting the panic in them. “In fact... we were just leaving.”

“The reception only started,” Harry protests, showing his champagne flute in example.

“We have some... er prior engagements,” Malfoy says regrettably and Hermione almost believes him until she realises that this is all a lie and she has no plans with him, except possibly to have him drawn and quartered or at least executed.

“Did I hear someone say the word engagement?” someone gasps happily, and the bride is squeezing her way into their circle and grinning up at Hermione with a happy face.

“Isn’t that wonderful, Ronnekins?” Lavender says as her new husband trots over, and Ron nods when he hears her despite not knowing what she was talking about. “Hermione is getting engaged!”

“Wait what?” Ron sputters and Hermione groans.

“She isn't,” Harry denies on her behalf, patting Ron’s shoulder. “Although I can't be sure.”

He throws them another distrustful look and Ron follows his gaze to the man on her arm.

“Malfoy?” he says, blinking, and the ferret nods back in acknowledgement. “So _you're_ Mione’s date.”

“That I am,” he answers cheerfully, but his voice sounds strained now and Hermione hopes the thought of being beat up by the Weasley boys has ruined his fun.

“Drat,” Ron says. “I guess we owe George a fiver.”

“You bet on who my date would be?” she demands, wrenching her arm from Malfoy’s and crossing them over her chest.

"Not exactly, no," the redhead replies. "Harry and Ginny bet that he'd be a cousin of yours that you bribed, Cho and Parvati bet that you'd bring Marcus cause he 'makes eyes' at you or something, and George bet you'd bring Malfoy. I bet you'd schedule some disease to befall you today to conveniently avoid social confrontation... but yeah."

"You've got to be joking," she cringes, tightening her grip on Malfoy's upper arm.

“Well not really,” Ron admits cheekily. “You were being so secretive and it was a good way to take our minds off the crazy wedding preparations.”

“Yeah,” Harry agrees. “Lav was up our asses about everything. You're lucky you got away- OW!”

Lavender pinches Harry’s ear and smacks her husband's chest. “You two are insufferable. I’m glad for you Hermione. Have a good time. You... with me. Now.”

“Yes ma’am,” Ron answers dreamily, running a hand across his undoubtedly sore chest as he follows his wife out of the tent.

“He’s so whipped,” Harry says with a laugh, slinging an arm around Ginny’s shoulders before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“And we're so late,” Malfoy says suddenly. “For the thing.”

Hermione hopes he’s put off by the romance in the area. Hopefully he never stumbles into any of his own.

“Yeah, the thing,” she says lamely, just wanting to leave.

They needn’t have put any effort however, as Harry and Gin just stand there muttering to each other and kissing chastely every other second.

Malfoy takes her elbow lightly and pulls her along to the Apparition point before whisking them away from Ron and Lavenders wedding, away from their Horrible Disaster of a Fake Date, and onto her doorstep.

The second she sees her deep sea green door she yanks her shoes off her feet, turns and throws them at the wizard behind her.

“You... asshole!” she shrieks, watching the shoes miss him by several inches. He doesn't even flinch.

Instead, he puts his hands up, palms facing her, and slowly creeps closer.

“Must you embarrass me so?” she snaps, and she squints her eyes because she can feel the frustration give way to tears.

She’s never been so humiliated before. Her friends hadn’t even batted an eyelid at her being with Malfoy of all people and they’d certainly cared more about him than they had her. She takes another look at his blank face and searches for something else to throw.

It isn’t until she turns around that she realises he’s standing right beside her, hands up, palms facing her.

“Can I say something?” he asks and she shakes her head no.

“Go away,” she croaks, and shields her face in her hands when her voice trembles. “Just go, Malfoy.”

“I’m not going to leave you like this, Granger,” he mutters. “A mess on your porch.”

“What do you care?” she says, voice muffled by her hands.

“I care that you’re this upset,” he says slowly. “Can you believe I’ve never seen you cry?”

“Well you’ve made me cry,” she says fiercely, looking up to glare at him. “Countless times actually.”

“Touché,” he says quietly, eyes tracing her face. “But you did get to punch me.”

He reaches up and brushes the Traitorous Tears from her face with a thumb, watching her glare turn to a half-hearted glower.

“Why are you still here?” she asks after a while, not sure whether she wants to hear the answer.

Malfoy glances away for a moment before looking back at her with determined eyes. She feels the need to Back Away Slowly but doesn’t listen to the urge. Instead she narrows her eyes at him and waits.

“You looking at me so suspiciously doesn’t help what I’m trying to say,” he admits with a nervous laugh, and Malfoy admitting things and laughing nervously are both signs of Dangerous Territory.

“Too bad,” she says, deepening the furrow between her brows.

He laughs then, quietly, before raising his hand higher to rub at the crease of her brows.

“You look like an agitated chipmunk,” he chuckles. “It’s really cute.”

“You called me fat before,” she reminds him. “And now you call me cute?”

“Why can’t you be fat and cute?” he says shrugging, his thumb brushing her cheekbone now. “You’re a brilliant witch, Hermione Granger. You’re amazingly clever and scarily powerful. I've heard stories about your wrath and your brains from Weasley and Potter that confound me as well as reduce my faith in their own intelligence. And you’re so very beautiful. And I never called you fat. I think you look great actually. Curvy. Luscious. Beautiful.”

“What at you talking about?” she mutters, only very slightly lost in the captivating grey of his eyes that still makes her want to gouge them out a little bit. “You hate me.”

“I disliked you,” he agrees. “But for the past month I’ve been hearing all about you from your friends at work, and running into you at the Ministry, and even though I rile you up every time I see you and you swear at me and throw hexes, it’s still the highlight of my day whenever it happens.”

“You're terrible at whatever this is,” she mumbles, extracting his hand from her face.

He sighs sharply and steps away, the soft, almost adorable look in his face giving way to annoyance. “I’m just trying to tell you I like you, you tiresome witch.”

“Now that’s just rude,” she replies matter- of-factly. “And I’ll never believe you with that tone.”

“I just told you that I thought you were beautiful... in a completely believable tone, mind you... and you looked at me like I was crazy!” he gapes. “Urgh. You are the one, most stubborn and dense witch in the entirety of Wizarding London! And I had to like you!”

“Well nobody asked you to!”

“You recite Shakespeare in casual conversation like its something normal people do! You talk to yourself to remember important things and you speak about certain things like They Are Capitalised!”

“You noticed that?”

“Of course I did. You can just tell.”

“Oh,” she mutters, blushing against her will.  
He sighs long-sufferingly. “Do you only understand me when I'm at your throat?”

“Funny,” she says. “You’ve never really been anywhere near my neck.”

His demeanour changes immediately, shifting from exasperated to dark and heated in the span of a second. “Is that so? I cant say I’ve been acquainted with your face either.”

She can’t resist a chuckle at that, and backs away from him with a bashful grimace. “Sorry for being overly dramatic just now.”

Malfoy laughs, a short bark, and twirls a finger in her hair. “Maybe you can make it up to me.”

Her eyes widen and she gasps involuntarily and he laughs louder when he realises what she’d thought he'd insinuated.

“I meant invite me in for tea or something,” Malfoy says through his laughter, and Hermione ducks away to throw open the door and flee into her house.

“Pervert,” he says loud enough for her to hear as he enters, throwing off his fancy robes and hunting around her kitchen for sugar as she hides in the bathroom under the pretence of changing.


	2. Team Spirit

**Prompt: Touching Foreheads**

* * *

 

“I can’t _believe_ him!”

Her shrill, screeching voice floods their small shared office and causes her partner to jerk up in response, an unimpressed glower working across his features. She storms in, hair a frizzing mess of pure static energy, and throws herself bodily into a march around the cramped space.

“Harry wouldn’t even let me explain! He’s honestly thinking of sending us- _us!_ \- on a mission! And I’ve been working so hard to earn a mission and when I finally get it- it has to be with you!”

Her hands flap as she passes his desk once, twice, thrice on her protest around the room. He watches her eyes narrow into slits and wisely stays silent.

“We all know what happened on our last patrol duty,” she says darkly, clenching her fists at her sides. “How can he think we would be any good as a team? I can't understand why he won’t listen!”

“Maybe because your excuses are shallow and petty?” he suggests, unable to help himself.

The murderous glare she throws his way is enough to have him snickering into his hand.

“Not in the _least_!” she denies, voice high. “I absolutely refuse to be on a mission with you. Patrol duty is one thing, but a mission? Its so high stake and I cannot work with you- you're horrible and disgusting-,”

“That’s not what you were saying last time,” he frowns in mock disagreement.

“Let me finish,” she growls snappishly. “The last time was unbearable. You were so... _fine_ maybe you weren’t disgusting. But you are so difficult to work with- I refuse. You forgot to obliviate those muggles and left _me_ to do all the paperwork!”

“We're partners, love,” he drawls lazily. “Plus I was otherwise occupied.”

He watches her flush a deep red and waits. There was always a tipping point to these pointless tirades.

“He’s supposed to be my friend,” she moans suddenly. “Why would he do this? What if I don’t like being in close quarters with you? Shouldn't he consider that?”

“We both know that’s not true,” he smirks, laughing when she throws a worried glance over her shoulder at the empty doorway.

“You shut up-,”

“Granger, we work here every day. We have been for the last two years. That’s close quarters for you, love,” he explains.

“Stop calling me that,” she snaps blankly, staring at his desk with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Isn’t this all a little unnecessary?” he asks, rolling his eyes.

“I don’t think I can do this,” she says suddenly, chest heaving as she takes a deep breath in and looks up to meet his gaze with frantic eyes.

“Granger-,” he begins, running worried eyes across her panicked face.

“Merlin. MERLIN. We're going on mission. Together. Fuck. Fuck.”

“Breathe Granger,” he instructs, coming round his desk to peer at her wide eyes. “Hey, deep breaths.”

“Why did we think that was a good idea?” she whines, breath hitching and stuttering.

“What... last time?” he chuckles quietly, drawing near and cupping her face. “We were two drunk, attractive Aurors on a boring stakeout. What were we supposed to do?”

“Our job, not each other,” she hisses, trying to tug her face out of his hands.

He only clasps his fingers tighter against her ears and pulls her forward a little.

“What are you doing?” she mutters when he pulls her closer still. “Draco Malfoy, so help me-,”

She trails off in a squeak when his face looms over hers, those sharp features temptingly close, and her eyes squeeze shut in an attempt to escape the oncoming touch of his.... forehead.

She blinks open her eyes to a cross-eyed view of his nose, and feels his cool forehead pressed against hers. His eyes are open, calm and grey, and he smirks a little at her placid features. She’s on her tip toes, even though he’s bent over quite dramatically, and stray brown curls are plastered across his cheek in way that takes her back to inappropriate times. She feels strange sense of something crawl up her spine, and realises he’s pulling at the hair at the base of her skull and the feeling is criminally glorious. They stand there for a while, his palms on her face and fingers in her hair, and Hermione can't decide whether this is a better situation to be in than before.

“What are we doing?” she says, after a few minutes of awkward forehead touching.

He grunts in annoyance and she almost lets out a tiny laugh. Almost.

“We're being _romantic,_ Granger,” he mutters, without moving.

“In the workplace?” she whispers agitatedly, and this time he lets go.

“Well it’s not like last time where we tore each other’s clothes off so yes, in the workplace,” he responds with a smirk that borders on a grin.

“You’re getting way too much fun out of this,” she notes, eyes narrowing.

Draco laughs loudly, one of his rare booming chortles that seem to explode from deep within his chest. “Only because you're getting so wound up about it! So we sleep together- what’s the big deal? We're also not the only couples in the Ministry... and we're definitely not the first partners to shag each other. What do you think Thomas and Finnegan do all day? Write reports? Please.” 

She watches him chuckle and fall back into his revolving chair with graceful ease, and she can’t help the stunned look on her face.

“What now?” he asks warily when he notices.

“We're... we're a couple?”

He looks momentarily alarmed and she’s sure then that he hadn't meant to label what they've been doing, but he leans back with an air of nonchalance and perks a brow.

“Well what are we if not that?” he asks, spinning the metaphorical table around, tossing the hypothetical ball back into her court.

Hermione fidgets. She pushes back a curl and bites her lip and shuffles in place and looks out the window. “I didn't really think about it.”

He looks like he’s about to laugh again. “That’s dangerous, Hermione. Fine let me explain. Are you sleeping with any other blokes, Granger?”

“No,” she replies around a heated blush.

“Am I shagging any other birds except for you? Of course I'm not- who gets served Hermione Granger and goes in search of seconds am I right?”

She glowers at him and his saucy grin. “Get to your point.”

“We've been exclusive for an entire year Granger,” he smiles. “I think that makes us a couple.”

She shakes her head with a sigh and stomps over to her chair. “That makes us fuck buddies, _not_ a couple,” she points out bitterly, scrambling to find something to work on.

There’s silence from across the room and she buries her head in a case file, taking shallow breaths to calm her nerves. If he insisted on being this arrogant and crude and... and... and just _difficult_ during an actual mission, she wouldn’t last.

“Hmm,” he says suddenly, and she jerks upright in her chair because his voice is directly in front of her.

He takes her movement as an opportunity to lean in, planting his elbows on her desk and resting his weight on them.

“Are you, Hermione Granger, asking me to ask you out?”

“What?” she says. “No.”

“What if I say I’ve been working up to ask you for some time now? Would you say yes?”

“You have?” she mutters. “No, I’d say no.”

“Well what if... what if I tell you that there is no mission and its actually a guise to whisk you away on a month long date?”

“It is not!” she gasps.

“It isn't,” he agrees, laughingly.

“Wha- then why? Why even mention it?” she sighs heavily.

“Come on Granger,” he snorts. “We both know you’d appreciate actual work over a mindless holiday to Morgana knows where.”

“But missions are so rare these days... and we've only been on the Force two years.”

“All true facts Granger,” he nods.

“And I've wanted a mission ever since I got here.”

“Yes, Granger. I’m sure the whole Force knows.”

“But Harry gave _us_ the mission,” she mutters, narrowing her eyes at him.

At this, he slides off her desk leisurely and stretches. “Of course he did,” Draco says in a way that tells her that Harry didn’t.

“What did you do?” she asks carefully.

“Nothing that will get us in trouble,” he says lightly, flapping a hand. “And everything that will get you excited and me back into my girlfriend's pants.”

She rolls her eyes at his presumptuous nature and stifles a smile. “Oh so you have a girlfriend now?”

He smirks from behind his desk. “Yeah, Granger. Don’t be jealous.”

“You wish,” she laughs, shaking her head. “You are so tiresome sometimes. You could have just asked me out like a normal person, you know.”

Draco smiles at her and winks casually, leaning back in his chair and swivelling it around. “Now where’s the fun in that? Plus I got a romantic forehead touch.”

“Hmm,” she agrees, turning to her paper work. “You also got a whole tirade.”

He shrugs as if it was nothing he couldn’t handle. “What I didn’t get was a kiss.”

Hermione rolls her eyes at his suggestive look and shakes her head again. “Go ask your girlfriend,” she smirks before turning to face her papers to shield a private, happy smile. **  
**


End file.
